


A Spoonful of Strength

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Disability, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/F, Female-Centric, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: The summer before Belle and Mulan's senior year is, in a word, perfection. They've been dating for a few months now and with their friends at their back, they're ready to take on the world. But perhaps they'll start with just conquering the beach first.And that's all it should have been - a normal day at the beach - but one stupid mistake and suddenly Belle's life changes forever.Lucky for her, Mulan is there every step of the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers! This fic was a joy to write. This piece is for Wombatking and I really and truly hope they enjoy it :)

"You're going to get in trouble for that, you know."

 

Mulan rolled her eyes so hard that Snow snorted, trying to snap a pic of that expression and failing. So Mulan did it again for her benefit—and emphasis. Because really. She was seated between Belle's legs up on the classroom windowsill and as much as she enjoyed those feelings (Belle's thighs covering her own, a book resting lightly against her skull, one hand toying with Mulan's hair in an absent, soothing manner) they didn't make up for the fact that her girlfriend was dumb. The smartest girl the school had ever seen, of course. But dumb.

 

She lifted the magazine to wave in Belle's face. "They're not even real weapons," Mulan said. "Just props. For movies and shit."

 

"Ooo, she said 'shit.'" Ella got the whole class laughing and Belle, realizing that somehow she was the butt of this joke, threw a fond glare out over the other girls.

 

They had plenty of places to sit in their classroom, but as always they'd congregated together, this time by the windows where the bright sun was shining through. Everyone was either atop a desk or seated in someone's lap, with the exception of Ariel in her wheelchair, and with legs overlapping legs, heads on shoulders, and arms constantly crossing into someone else's space, they looked more like an amalgamation of one girl rather than ten. And they weren't even complete yet. "Two heads are better than one," Mulan's father had once said. "But twelve heads is just asking for trouble."

 

Mulan rather liked trouble.

 

"Well," Belle said, "don't come crying to me if you get caught with that. Again."

 

"What are they gonna do? Give me detention on the last day? C'mon. Besides, you should be happy that I'm reading this much."

 

The "I am" when it came was so quiet that only Mulan could have caught it. She grinned.

 

What a change just a couple of months brought. That first day, seated at her parents' kitchen table, when Belle had drawn in a massive breath before blurting that she'd really like to take Mulan out for coffee sometime... hell, Mulan had actually been tempted to say no. Not because she'd disliked Belle at the time—far from it—they were just so massively different. What exactly did they have to build a relationship on? Mulan liked sports; Belle brought books to football matches. Belle was the straight-A darling of the school; Mulan was constantly trying to figure out what everyone else was doing so she could scrape by. They had different styles, different priorities, and a divide in upbringing that had little to do with Mulan's Chinese heritage. How exactly did you squeeze two traditional parents in next to an eccentric inventor at the dinner table?

 

It was only a brief flash of insight, that stupid age-old saying that "opposites attract" that had Mulan saying ‘yes.’ And wow, thank god she had.

 

Because dating Belle wasn't boring or stuffy or any of the things Mulan had thought it might be. Dating Belle was like dating a library: full of adventure and discovery.

 

"What are you doing?" Belle laughed. She lightly pulled at Mulan's hair, tilting her head back. "You've got this dopey expression on your face."

 

"‘Course." Mulan said. "I’m thinking about you."

 

All the other girls 'aww'ed right on cue. Ugh. It sometimes sucked being the only couple in their grade.

 

To say that Elias High was small was the understatement of the century. Dating back to the early 19th century, they'd maintained the tradition of keeping grades together for all of their classes, which wasn't too different from any other high school, except that the Juniors had only twelve people total. Supposedly it was meant to foster close-knit relationships, personalized attention from the teachers, and a whole bunch of other fluff that Mulan had tuned out during her orientation. Her parents ate it up though. The fact that it was an all-girls school just solidified their adoration. Why, it would keep Mulan focused on her studies. No cute boys around to distract her!

 

Too bad there were plenty of cute girls and Mulan was stupidly gay. Coming out had been less the terrifying conversation she'd expected and more her grandmother cackling behind her stunned parents, whooping that this is what you get for making assumptions. It had all turned out alright. The fact that Mulan had "landed" (grandmother's words, not hers) Belle of all students had certainly helped to smooth things over. She was lucky, her Mother had said, and Mulan couldn't help but agree.

 

All the other girls just felt like really annoying siblings.

 

"Give it to me," Merida demanded. She skid across her own desk to make a grab at Mulan's magazine. She could have taken Merida, easily, but that would have involved moving out of her perfect Belle-cocoon. Mulan settled for whacking Merida with her magazine before handing it over.

 

"Play nice," Belle murmured, turning a page of her book.

 

"As if she ever does," Rapunzel said. She was re-braiding her hair—an endless habit of hers—while eyeing Merida's with more than a hint of jealousy. As someone aspiring to be a hairstylist and who spent far too much on the latest products, it sort of drove her up the wall that Merida could leave her hair a rat's nest and it still looked great. Rapunzel turned back to Mulan with narrowed eyes. "I still haven't forgiven you."

 

Mulan twirled a strand of her own hair. "Sorry. Had to be done."

 

"Okay. Definitely feel like I'm missing something." Moana raised her hand like she was trying to get the teacher's attention and Ariel snickered. She was the new girl, newly arrived in the States from Samoa, and as such she was constantly trying to play catch up on the other girls' two years worth of drama. She was also endearingly awkward about it. Like now.

 

Belle, always kind, included Moana with a look. She also started using Mulan's head as an armrest.

 

"Hey!"

 

"She cheated the system," Belle said, sounding ridiculously proud about it. "See, we've got sports here, yeah? You do swimming?"

 

"Uh huh."

 

"Well my stubborn girlfriend—"

 

"—your _awesome_ girlfriend—"

 

"—wanted to do martial arts, which is only offered at the boys' place." Belle nodded towards the window where, about a mile away, their brother school was located. "Rather than just settling like the rest of us, Mulan here forged paperwork saying that she was doing her sports off campus—"

 

"Mom's signature is stupidly easy to reproduce. She should work on that."

 

Belle dug her elbow harder into Mulan's skull. "Forged papers," she repeated. "I really want to emphasize that. She _broke the law_ and handed those in with a smile on her face, left campus in the early afternoon, hiked down to the Edwards' school, posed as a boy, told the Judo instructor that she was joining the team... and just did."

 

Moana stared. "You're joking. This is some kinda prank, right?"

 

"Nope." Mulan popped the 'p' and shot her a cheeky grin. "Three things you need to understand here: 1. Everyone hates paperwork so no one bothers to double-check it. 2. Everyone also hates new students—no offense—so Mr. Shang just chucked me into the back of his class, like I'd hoped he would. And 3. I've always looked boyish." Mulan spread her hands to show off muscled arms and a very flat chest. "All I had to do was cut my hair like I had it as a kid and I was good to go."

 

"Traitor," Rapunzel muttered.

 

"Where do you even get an idea like that?" Snow asked. She pulled a face for a selfie before setting her phone down, real slow so they understood her utter disbelief at the situation. "I mean, if they didn't have something I wanted here—"

 

"They have nothing here," Merida groused. "Including bows, the hell kind of weapons magazine is this??"

 

"Shut it, carrot-top. Look, I'm just saying if they didn't have something I'd run with it. Whatever. Or, I don't know, start a petition or something. I wouldn't—wouldn't—"

 

"Go all Cathay Williams on the school?"

 

"Yes!" Snow paused. "Who's Cathay Williams?"

 

"First documented African American woman in the U.S. army. She posed as a man for three years so she could fight in the civil war. Which was in what year, Mulan?"

 

"Ugh. 1861 to '65. C'mon, Belle, that test was _weeks_ ago."

 

"And yet you still remember. Look at how not horrible I am at tutoring you." Belle smiled proudly as Mulan mumbled that she wasn't horrible at _anything_ and it was _annoying_. "Anyway, it took them two weeks to realize what she was doing and that's only because Mrs. Fa called in asking questions. I still can't believe they just let you stay on..."

 

Mulan shrugged. "I snuck onto the soccer team as well. What? Shang _loves_ me now."

 

"You're a menace."

 

"A sexy menace?"

 

“No. Just a menace.”

 

“Aw, c’mon.”

 

"Eric is on those teams too," Ariel suddenly said, a dreamy expression crossing her features. She sighed and rolled back and forth in her chair. "Mulan you still need to introduce me! I don't see why we can't have more co-ed events. It's 2017 for god's sake."

 

"Small town with small views," Mulan said. "But hey, how about we all get together this weekend? It's not like they've got a say in what we do during summer break."

There were murmurs of agreement all around, most of them excited at the prospect of three months freedom.

 

"Belle and I were planning to hit the beach anyway before the tourists get here. Let's make it a party."

 

"Let's just go now," Ella said, pounding fists on her knees. "I don't see why we're even here. We finished our exams already. What else is there to do?"

 

"Learn," Belle intoned and more than one girl threw something at her. Mulan fended off pencils and paper balls with a laugh.

 

"Seriously though. Tomorrow afternoon. Everyone agreed?"

 

"Absolutely not," a new voice said. Tiana snuck into the classroom with a worried glance up at the clock, but she still had a good five minutes to spare. Their homeroom teacher hadn't even arrived yet (and if anyone thought the last day of school was useless, it was him. Mulan half expected for him to not show up at all). "To be fair," she said, setting down her bags, "I don't actually know what you're talking about. I just know I don't want to agree with anything Fa has to say."

 

"Oh ha ha," Mulan groused. She could feel Belle nodding happily and gave her girlfriend a pinch.

 

Behind Tiana Pocahontas and Jasmine slipped in as well, the former carrying a box of bakery cookies while the latter had her orange tabby curled up in her arms. It was easy to guess which of the two the girls went nuts over.

 

"I'm gonna _die_ ," Snow announced, snapping off a whole string of photos before scrambling closer.

 

"She didn't want me to leave this morning," Jasmine laughed, depositing the kitten in Ariel's lap for everyone to coo over. "I figured no one would mind if I brought Rajah for the last class."

 

"Rajah?" Pocahontas mumbled around a cookie. She stuffed a few into Moana's grabby hands before passing the box around. "Finally decided on a name?"

 

"Mm hmm. It basically means 'King' or 'Prince.' Fitting, since he acts like a spoiled little royal."

 

"With that kind of attention? Who can blame him." Belle craned her neck to get a better look at Rajah kneading Ariel's legs, Ella dangling her bracelet to try and get the kitten's attention. Even Merida had finally abandoned the magazine to play devotee. "You should bring him tomorrow. We're all heading down to the beach for the day. Around lunch?" Mulan nodded. "Lunch then. You three in?"

 

"Of course," Jasmine said. "I don't know if that's good for Rajah yet though. School is one thing. Big, scary beach?" She scratched under Rajah's chin and the classroom reverberated with purring. "That might be a little much. Wouldn't it? Yes it would, oh yes it would~"

 

 While the rest of the class lost their minds over the smallest cat in the history of ever, Pocahontas wandered over to stuff a cookie into Belle's waiting mouth. "That's a new book," she said, voice just this side of an accusation. "You had a new book yesterday."

 

"This is an old book," Belle corrected. " _The Dragon's Apprentice_. See?" and she turned it so that the cover was showing: a young woman standing before a massive dragon, hands raised in peace while her sword and shield lay in the dirt. "I sort of alternate. New book, book I love that needs re-reading, another new book... I've read this one how many times?"

 

"At least five," Mulan said. "And that's just since freshman year."

 

"At least five," Belle repeated, sounding pleased about it.

 

"It looks cool," Pocahontas tapped the cover, leaving crumbs in her wake. "Does she befriend the dragon instead of slaying it?"

 

Belle grimaced. "Guess that gives a lot of it away, huh? But yes, she does, and they're _epic_ together."

 

Mulan rolled her eyes as the two of them launched into an all-out nerd-a-thon, Belle recommending more books than poor Pocahontas could ever read in a lifetime, let alone fast enough for the two of them to chat about. She was used to happy rants like this though and Mulan used the time to pull out her own phone and grab a few pictures of Rajah. Good timing too because a second later it died on her.

 

"How in the world does your phone die at 9:00am?" Belle asked.

 

Mulan grimaced. "Forgot to charge it."

 

" _Again?_ "

 

"It's hard okay?"

 

"It's not hard. At all."

 

"Says the girl on top of everything."

 

"Says the girl who simply plugged her charger in next to her bed."

 

"You just have an answer for everything, don't you?"

 

And so it continued. Mulan might grumble and squirm and announce that Belle was the absolute worst, but she not so secretly loved it. This? This right here? It was probably something like heaven, with Belle literally at her back and the rest of her friends just enjoying themselves, being this close to their illusive summer break. Ella and Merida were perusing the magazine again, talking cosplay and whether they could beg enough money off their parents for a convention in July. Moana had custody of Rajah now, telling Rapunzel and Jasmine about the chicken her mom had just bought—"Who buys a chicken in a beach town?" "Who buys a chicken period?"—and how it was dumb as a bag of coconuts, but she just loved him. Snow announced happily that she'd bake them all something for their beach trip tomorrow. Maybe an apple pie? Pocahontas claimed that pie was a fall dish, Ariel countered that pie was an everyday dish, and Tiana pointed out that Snow would probably poison them. _She_ would bring something. It was safer.

 

Snow’s angry flailing finally woke Aurora. She spluttered, blonde hair falling into her face and a bit of drool dotting her chin. Someone yelled that she’d missed all the fun. Someone else cried that the teacher was coming and girls began scrambling back to their seats.

 

"Think we'll survive tomorrow?" Belle whispered, looking out at the chaos. Mulan reached blindly around the windowsill until she found Belle's hand, lifting it up for a kiss.

 

"Survive? Ha. No way. But it'll be perfect."

 

It couldn't be anything else.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Well now, you got straight As the whole year round, joined the swim team, started a book club, found time to tutor our dear Mulan, and then started dating her no less. I'm fairly sure there was a weekend in there where you just binged Netflix documentaries though. Educational, sure, but still a rather lazy thing to do. I don't know, Belle, I just don't know. A day at the beach might be too much for you..."

 

Belle bit her lip at her dad's teasing, continuing to pack up everything she might need even as he shook his head in mock despair. He always did this, any time she did something remotely like lazing about or—shocker—procrastinating on a project. Sometimes Belle thought she should get less done just so Dad wouldn't do this every time she took a break.

 

"I'm surprised you even know what 'binging' is," she muttered.

 

"What? I know the lingo," Maurice said, spreading his arms. "You know I'm the coolest dad this town has to offer, don't you? The hippest. The cat's meow. The bees' knees—and wouldn't that just be something, if bees had knees?"

 

"They do. If you count any joints as 'knees.' I read about it last summer."

 

"Then I suppose the question is, what's so great about them?"

 

Hat, sunscreen, snacks, book, and cellphone packed, Belle slung her bag over one shoulder, her other hand planted firmly on her hip. "Are you done yet?"

 

Maurice seemed to consider it, stroking his white mustache and staring pensively off into the distance. "Maybe. I could perhaps be convinced to hold my tongue for a kiss..."

 

Laughing Belle nodded, skipping up to plant a quick one on his cheek. Maurice immediately pulled her into a bear-hug that neatly lifted Belle off the floor.

 

"You have fun now," he admonished, setting her back down. "Keep safe, but don't be _too_ responsible. What time are girls your age supposed to be home, hmm? Bah. Whatever it is, add an hour. And make sure to collect plenty of sea shells while you're there."

 

"Sea shells? What do you need sea shells for?"

 

"I'm not sure yet, but they're marvelous little things aren't they? I'm sure they'll come in handy."

 

So it was with a fond promise to get seashells that Belle finally left the house. She paused on the stone walkway, peering past her father's workshop to the larger residence up on the hill, wondering if she should pick up Mulan on her way. But no, she already felt like she was late, in the way you were 'late' with no set time to arrive, but you can nevertheless feel time slipping away. So Belle set off with a smile, confident that Mulan was already waiting.

 

It was like that with them, polar opposites in so many respects. At least at first glance. Belle liked to take things slow and steady, while Mulan was always quick on her feet. Mulan would use that speed to rush headlong into any situation, whereas Belle liked to think through most of her options. She still considered that moment their turning point: Mulan bored with their math homework, frustrated that her suggestion to ditch tutoring had been shot down, snapping that Belle would never do _anything_ impulsive—and making that sound very much like an insult. Belle had snapped right back that oh yes, it's not as if I have a broken arm or anything.

 

After a brief (and justified) moment of confusion, Mulan had wormed the story out of Belle. How she'd just finished the most amazing YA romance, had climbed up onto the workshop roof to emulate the protagonist, and had... kind of slipped off.

 

It was while Mulan was falling off her chair at the image that Belle realized how much she liked her laugh.

 

Her arm healed and not too long afterwards Belle had grown quiet during another tutoring session, finally blurting something about them and coffee and do you know the cafe down near the boardwalk? Stupid. Of course Mulan knew. Their small town only had one cafe. And what kind of suggestion was that anyway? Belle hadn't had the heart to admit then that she actually hated coffee with a fiery passion. None of that was the point. Mulan had said yes and two days later Belle ordered a mug of chamomile tea, turning it to where her lips had touched the rim and letting Mulan take a taste.

 

And now here they were.

 

"Now here I am," Belle said aloud, passing down through the summer homes that would soon be full to the brim with seasonal visitors. When she reached the boardwalk she slipped off her flip-flops and tucked them under one arm, careful of splinters and too-hot sand. Belle felt good though. She had a new, blue and white swimsuit beneath a yellow cover-up and her hair—desperately in need of a trim—was piled up on her head, listing to one side in a messy bun.

 

She'd had a large of waffles for breakfast, had read more of _The Dragon's Apprentice_ in the early morning sun, and had gotten more sleep than she'd managed consecutively in the last month. Belle felt happy and healthy. She felt _great_.

 

"There's the slowpoke!" someone called.

 

The sun's glare kept her from identifying the speaker, but Ariel and Merida's red hair became a beacon for her to follow, leading Belle down the beach and over to a series of towels. Nearly her whole class was laid out and lazy, producing a warm bubble in the middle of Belle's chest.

 

"Elsa," she said, finally recognizing the older girl. "It is Elsa, right? Didn't we meet at Eudora's once?"

 

"For my birthday," Tiana called before stretching and turning onto her back. Elsa nodded, reaching to formally take Belle's hand.

 

"Still the best restaurant in town... until Tiana starts her own place, of course." A vague thumbs up was made. "Sorry. I didn't mean to crash your party. It's just that, well, Anna..."

 

Ah. That's right. Small town, small gossip. Everyone knew about the Arendelles: more money then they could ever spend in three lifetimes, the kind of people who you just assumed were obnoxious snobs—also the sort who’d never ‘settle’ for a dinky beach town like theirs, and yet here they were. Elsa was in that strange, in-between age where she wasn’t quite an adult, but she was definitely older than all the other girls around here. In fact, Belle wasn’t quite sure how old she was. She only knew that Elsa liked _playing_ the adult and everyone knew how protective she was of her younger sister. With Anna starting as a Freshman in a few months, Elsa no doubt wanted to meet the upperclassmen who would be running the school.

 

Belle let her eyes wander over the girls: Tiana, Aurora, Snow, and Ella sunbathing, looking like they were already comatose. Ariel and Merida were keeping to the shade under their one umbrella, working to teach Moana some card game while Pocahontas watched from the side...occasionally helping Moana by cheating. She dropped Belle a wink. Rapunzel and Jasmine had their heads bent together over their phones, muttering something too low for Belle to hear. She finally looked back up at Elsa with as dry an expression as she could conjure.

 

"Oh yeah," she said. "It's a wild party we've got going. You really crashed it."

 

"We're rebels," Ariel confirmed. She slapped down a card and Merida started tearing out her hair in frustration.

 

"I see that," Elsa said, laughing. 

 

"We're just missing one," Belle murmured. "Hey. Where's my idiot?"

 

As one the girls pointed towards the ocean and Belle caught the faintest, "I know you're talking about me!" coming from the waves.

 

She shielded her eyes and could just make out Mulan against the horizon. She was in a multi-colored suit of green, yellow, and blue with a single stripe of red across the middle. With a grin Belle began shedding her cover and dropping her things next to Tiana.

 

"No one else joining me?" she asked.

 

Elsa shook her head. “Didn’t bring a suit. Sorry.”

 

"Too cold," Moana said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms dramatically. "It's not hot-hot yet. At least wait until later in the afternoon."

 

"Wait? Never."

 

"You're both nuts," Snow called as Belle took off at a run.

 

The water was definitely cold, a little worse than she'd been expecting, and when it hit the tops of her thighs Belle had to take a moment, bouncing in place as Mulan beckoned her. A few seconds though and she began to adjust, beginning to enjoy the crisp feel of the water, foam sticking to her skin and soft sand between her toes. Hauling in a breath, Belle just went for it and dunked under the nearest wave, biting deep into her lower lip to stifle her instinctive gasp. She opened her eyes, seeing particles and the occasional strand of sea-weed. Also a dark pair of legs.

 

Hands dove fast like snakes into the water and Belle twisted away, coming up with a spluttering laugh. She barely had time to yell, "Wait!" before Mulan had her hands on Belle's shoulders, leveraging herself up so as to push Belle back down. The two of them went tumbling just as another wave crashed over both of them.

 

"You're awful," Belle groused, finally managing to get to her feet. "I have sand _everywhere_ now."

 

"Everywhere?" Mulan deliberately made it sound lewd, splashing over to hook her arms around Belle's hips, pulling them together.

 

When the kiss came it tasted cold and salty, the perfect contrast to the hot sun beating overhead. Belle sighed against Mulan's lips and gripped tight to the wet strands of her hair. She liked the slick slide of their suits together, the way Mulan kept one hand carefully cradling the back of her neck.

 

"Looking good!" came a shout from the beach and they pulled apart, wearing identical expressions of frustration. Mulan actually made a sound like a growl that had Belle choking.

 

"Let's go splash 'em," she said, already pulling against the surf. "Merida has a wet hug in her future and I think Snow is getting dunked." Belle caught Mulan's hand as she tried to pass and instead led them deeper into the water.

 

 

"Later," she said. "When's the last time we got a whole ocean all to ourselves? Or, mostly to ourselves. Just ignore the infantile peanut gallery."

 

Mulan did, with remarkable ease, and the two of them pushed further out, until Belle could only occasionally feel the sand beneath her feet. Despite moving here at a young age and essentially being a 'beach broad,' Belle had never been much of a swimmer, always preferring to stay on a towel with music and a good book. She was glad she'd taken up swimming as her sport though, despite some initial hesitations. Belle felt confident in the water now...and more than ready to show off. After a while of treading she rolled backwards, kicking hard with her legs until she came up closer to shore.

 

"Watch this!"

 

Interested more in overall health than competition, the Elias Mice ("Lamest mascot _ever_.") had taken a few of their lessons on this very beach, back when the water had really been cold. Thus, Belle knew how to handle a wave and she waited, bouncing from foot-to-foot in the shallows, scraping strands of flyaway hair back into her bun. When a big enough wave started Belle ran as far as she could, diving beneath it and doing an underwater pull-down to take her even further. For a moment she was weightless, floating, before the wave's power started pressing down on her. Belle caught a sandbar with her foot and pushed back up to the surface.

 

Mulan was waiting with arms up in the air. "Ten points!" she exclaimed, waving an imaginary cue card. Not to be outdone, she caught a crest and bodysurfed back to the beach... only to stumble and disappear halfway there. For a split second Belle was afraid that Mulan might have hurt herself, but then she came back up, spluttering and looking very drowned rat-ish.

 

"Three points," she said and Mulan threw an obscene gesture her way.

 

"Two!"

 

"Definitely one!"

 

They both turned, spotting the new arrivals: twelve boys to parallel Elias' Junior class. Belle freely rolled her eyes at the display of hyped-up masculinity, with Aladdin, Naveen, and Gaston all posing dramatically as the others shoved them along. Funny thing though... it kind of worked. Jasmine quickly buried her face behind her cards and Tiana lowered her sunglasses to get a decent look at Naveen... and apparently found him wanting. Gaston was just an asshole.

 

Eric looked decent though. He lagged a little behind the others, the new-new kid in town after Moana. Even from such a distance Belle didn't miss the blush that spread across Ariel's cheeks, red enough to match her hair.

 

"I'm heading in," Mulan called, already slogging towards the others. Belle remembered then that Eric was another martial arts fanatic, a well-worn sparring partner, and Mulan had promised to act as a bridge between him and Ariel. More important than any of that—Tiana was pulling out lunch.

 

Belle's stomach gave a massive grown. Too long since the waffles. She nodded to show that she'd heard and started swimming back before realizing that Mulan had the right idea. Belle dove once more, intent on riding a wave back to the beach.

 

"Show off," Mulan said fondly, spotting Belle's dive. Her own little mishap had hurt though, faint red streaks showing up along her thighs where the sand had scraped her. Mulan pulled off the sticky remains and gratefully accepted the towel that Ella offered her.

 

"Told you it was cold," she said, walking fingers up the goosebumps on Mulan's arm. Ella got a flick for her trouble.

 

The beach was feeling sort of crowded now, despite the fact that everyone had congregated into this one area, from left to right nothing else but empty sand. Mulan wrapped the towel around her hips and started making chit-chat with Peter, accepting a Coke from Henry and a turkey sandwich from Florian. Kristoff looked like he was somehow digging himself in deep with Elsa—how'd he manage that in such a short period of time?—and for a minute Mulan was distracted enough not to notice what was missing. A hand at the small of her back. A familiar voice in her ear.

 

She scanned the crowd. Belle wasn't there.

 

Time slowed and Mulan knew, she just _knew_ , exactly what she'd find when she turned to the water. It was the instinctual knowledge that something was lurking in the shadows nearby. That a claw was about to clamp down onto your shoulder. Or snake out from beneath your bed. It was each cold sweat and every tingle down the back of your spine. In an instant Mulan knew what it was to experience horror on a beautiful summer day.

 

Belle was still out in the water and she wasn't moving.

 


	3. Chapter 3

" _Mulan!_ "

 

She didn't spare a thought to whose voice that was and she sure as hell didn't pause. Mulan was pounding down the beach with every bit of strength she had, muscles clenched and her towel flying off to the side. She slipped when she hit the water, doing more of a bellyflop than a dive, but it still didn't slow her down. Mulan pushed past the crest of a wave and caught another look at Belle: floating there, ragged, sometimes dipping beneath the surface.

 

"Oh my god, oh fuck, c'mon—"

 

She barely recognized it as her own voice. Mulan found herself gasping and ended up inhaling a mouthful of salt water. Choking, she pushed herself harder, her mind panicking as Belle's outline seemed to get further and further away. Her vision must have been tunneling though because one moment Mulan had nothing but water in front of her—and then she had Belle.

 

A second later other hands were there. Tiana, Merida, and Eric must have been right at her heels the whole time, moving to surround Mulan as she scooped Belle carefully against her chest, one hand digging desperately into the material of her suit. Eric dove under to support Belle's legs while Merida took hold of Mulan's free arm, using powerful strokes to pull them all to shore. Tiana kept to the back, trying to create a barrier between them and the oncoming waves. There were others standing in the shallows, dumbstruck at the edge of their party, everyone sporting equal, horrorstruck looks... but Mulan didn't see any of it. All she had in her vision was Belle: eyes closed with a faint blue-ish tint around her lips.

 

_It's just the cold water_ , she thought, feeling rather numb herself. It had nothing to do with the temperature.

 

Time skipped then. Later Mulan wouldn't be able to recount anything between swimming back to shore and the first sound of a siren. She was told, hesitantly, that she'd gone nearly as still as Belle, curled beneath her on the sand and flat out refusing to let her go. Maybe someone would have forced her if CPR was needed, maybe not. Did any of the Juniors even know CPR? Mulan didn't. There was a repetitive, angry little part of her mind that just kept telling her she should have learned. What were you doing on all those weekends? Soccer? Fucking Netflix? What were those compared to saving someone's life? This was _Belle_.

 

"—Belle—" Mulan heard and came back to herself, looking around wildly only to find that Belle was still in her arms. There were even more people now though, pushing and shouting as two adults in black appeared beside her. One of them held his hands up against the crowd of kids, his words sounding muddled and far away. The other, a blonde woman, firmly gripped Mulan's shoulder and wouldn’t let go.

 

"—down," she was saying, her voice only slightly clearer. "Okay? It's okay. We're going to take good care of her, but I need you to put your friend _down_."

 

"She's allergic to shellfish," she heard and it took Mulan a second to realize that was her own voice speaking. Then: "I'm her girlfriend." She wasn't sure how those two things were connected, but they both seemed important. Mulan lowered Belle from her lap into the sand with all the care she had in her.

 

"What happened?" was asked and Mulan couldn't get her mouth to form any more words. It was like they'd all gotten burned up inside her, a whole bunch of ash now searing the back of her throat. So her friends stepped around her, protective, saying the same things with a dispassionate air that Mulan would later learn was shock. She'd been in the ocean. I saw her dive. Yeah, that. She didn't come back up. She did but she was floating. Drowning. Mulan went in. Others too. Got her out. Is she okay? Will she be...?

 

Pocahontas mentioned Belle's recent interest in swimming. That she was _good_ at it. She was strong. Snow hesitantly held out her cell with shaking hands, saying that she'd caught a few pictures of them bringing Belle to shore and was that helpful? At all? She sounded so guilty about it. Horrified, almost. Mulan couldn't be sure though because she didn't see Snow's face. Her gaze was fixed on Belle's feet—white toes with sand between them.

 

"We'll do everything we can."

 

Things moved fast after that, almost too fast to comprehend. The paramedics began speaking a language that Mulan had never learned, but even she could follow what the objects were spelling out for her: gloved hands checking Belle's airway and breathing. The blood pressure cuff that left red marks along her skin. A board slid carefully beneath her body...the rigid collar along her neck. When they hoisted Belle up and began hurrying her away it was all Mulan could do not to scream.

 

" _No_ —" she ground out, stumbling to her feet and pushing at all the hands that tried to make a grab for her. Mulan caught up with the paramedics, her own hand latching onto the woman's shirt in the parody of a child with her mother.

 

"I'm her girlfriend," Mulan said again, nearly gasping it. " _Please_..."

 

She didn't know what she was asking for until the woman nodded and told her to keep back, gently but firmly maneuvering Mulan onto a small seat in the back of the ambulance.

 

It was like entering some awful, alien world. Their sunny day was replaced by sterile white walls and an artificial light that left Mulan blinking. She thought about how much better it would be if they decorated ambulances like they did children's hospitals. Who didn't want a bit of color or stickers to look at? That was right. This was wrong. Mulan barely felt the blanket they draped around her shoulders.

 

They had to drive out of town to reach the nearest hospital and for most of that Mulan's world remained nestled in cotton. She hadn't heard all her friends' cries as they were taken away. She barely registered the piercing sound of their siren. No, what finally drew her back was a single, sputtering cough.

 

"Belle?" she exclaimed, surging forward only to find her way blocked by the male EMT. He began asking quick, clipped questions about Belle's medical history, her allergies (she'd _told_ him that), and whether or not she'd been drinking, until Mulan, in a rare flare of anger, wanted to throttle him and add another incoming patient to their list. Instead she threw out some answers before finally succeeding in getting to Belle's side.

 

"Hey," Mulan said. "Hey, hey." She couldn't acknowledge how watery her voice was, or the fact that she couldn't make any other words come out except for stupid 'hey.' Belle didn't seem to mind. Though dazed, her eyes danced around the ambulance with keen precision, taking in her situation before landing on Mulan. Belle gave a shuddering breath of relief that floored her and Mulan could do little but nod, her hand coming up to delicately—oh so carefully—trace the edge of Belle's hairline. Her other hand took hold of Belle's and squeezed.

 

"You're okay." Mulan wondered if saying it with enough conviction would make it true. "We're on our way to the hospital. Do you remember what happened? And don't worry, I'll call your dad. Or anyone else you want. Just say the word, Belle. ...Belle?"

 

This wasn't just confusion. Belle's gaze had sharpened, but she was no longer looking at Mulan's face. Instead she seemed transfixed by their linked hands. Thinking she needed the comfort, Mulan traced her thumb up and down Belle's knuckles, warming the skin there with long, easy strokes. Any second now Belle would make some quip about her being overly sentimental. Because that was just who Belle was. She was the optimist. A fighter.

 

Instead Belle parted her lips and what came out was: "I… can't feel that. Mulan, I _can’t feel that_."

 

Mulan didn't let go of her hand though. If anything, she gripped harder.

 

***

 

"I've thought about becoming a doctor."

 

They were the first words Mulan had spoken in nearly three hours. After arriving at the hospital she'd been unceremoniously separated from Belle: a nurse leading her in one direction while doctors wheeled Belle's stretcher in another. They hadn't said anything else on the ride over, Belle having slipped unconscious again soon after her horrifying admission. Now Mulan wished she'd said something else reassuring. Even if Belle couldn’t hear her. Just something, anything, that Belle could have unconsciously carried with her.

 

Maurice turned to Mulan. When he did the plastic chair squeaked beneath him, sounding insultingly loud in the waiting room. He'd always seemed like such a jolly man to Mulan. The kind of guy who could (and had) dressed up like Santa for the neighborhood kids—even though he was Jewish. Pot bellied from good food shared with friends, face lined deeply from all the times he'd laughed and smiled... Mulan wondered where all of that joy had gone tonight. It had seeped out of Maurice, leaving a hollow shell behind to deal with this tragedy, and she could only hope that, somehow, he could gather it back. Maurice licked his lips and blinked owlishly.

 

"Doctor?" he repeated, only now seeming to register the words.

 

Mulan nodded. She slid down in her own seat, planting her forehead between her knees. "Uh huh. It would make Mom and Dad happy. A good, respectable job, you know? And I'd be helping people. Seems perfect, except..." Mulan swallowed hard. "Except I don't think I can work _here_. Hour after hour, day after day..."

 

Instead of answering Maurice patted one meaty hand against Mulan's forearm, a gesture that somehow felt like it was meant to comfort himself more than her. Still, Mulan accepted it with gratitude.

 

Others had stopped by. After Mulan had shrieked and threatened a nearby nurse if she didn't hear something about Belle _right now_ , after Maurice had showed up, the only other person who could have possibly calmed her down, after they'd sat in silence for what felt like an age... others started arriving. Mostly the girls, sticking together as a group more than ever, though a few of the boys tagged along too. Mulan had accepted their awkward sympathies with a dull gaze and fake smiles. Merida was brimming with directionless rage, spitting that the cops had shown up and kept them all from following immediately. Tiana couldn't quite look Maurice in the eye, but she promised to provide any food they needed—who could cook dinner at a time like this? Hell, who could eat? Eric was the only one who sat down, bumping shoulders with Mulan in a strangely comforting manner. He said he'd carried Ariel back to her chair on the boardwalk and Mulan had felt something then, though she couldn't name what it was.

 

Snow had given her Belle's things, including _The Dragon's Apprentice_. Mulan kept it pressed firmly against her side long after all the others had left.

 

"Mr. Woolverton?"

 

When the woman's voice came Mulan jumped, feeling Maurice do the same beside her. Like it had been at the beach, Mulan felt as if time was skipping ahead. She was looking at some strange photo album: a picture of herself standing slightly behind Maurice, her walking down the hallway, her being ushered into a room illuminated with x-rays. The woman said she was Linda, in a tone that conveyed her assumption that she was being kind, but all Mulan could focus on was how cold it was in here. Like the water. Was the whole hospital like this? How was anyone supposed to get better in sub-zero temperatures?

 

"—C-4," Linda was saying. She pointed to one of the x-rays, surprisingly beautiful in their blues, greens, and blacks, and even Mulan could see how one of those fragile bones was cracked and out of place. She’d herniated a disk once with Mr. Shang, had seen vaguely similar pictures of her own spine. The familiar ache in her lower back sharpened and Mulan realized all at once that these were _Belle's_ x-rays, _Belle's_ neck, and oh god she needed to sit down. Mulan reached blindly behind her and found a stool just in time.

 

Maurice looked shockingly composed. He kept his hands neatly over his belly, his chin high and even a slight smile on his face. Mulan was the one close enough to see how those hands were shaking.

 

"—explain things together," Linda said and then she started leading them to some new place, Mulan following along on wobbling legs like a badly-built puppet. She paid no mind to the other people they passed in the halls, the equipment, and the general air of panic. Mulan knew this was the intensive care unit, where they took people who were broken and bleeding and possibly dying. She couldn't think on that. She just... just...

 

Belle.

 

The next room was Belle and Mulan's eyes and heart filled with her. It didn't matter how many tubes and machines they'd crammed into the room, or the fact that she was literally strapped to the bed. As Maurice ran to take his daughter's hand Mulan was right there on her other side, practically crawling up onto the bed with her—two tears slipping out when she realized, thank God, that Belle was awake.

 

"You're okay," Mulan murmured. It didn't matter anymore if that was a statement or a plea. Belle was still _here_.

 

Belle tried to turn her head into Mulan's hand but the brace prevented her. "You've gotta brush up on your Latin and Greek."

 

"Huh?"

 

Belle's smile, though there, wasn't a kind of smile that Mulan had ever seen before.

 

"'Quadriplegic,' Mulan. I'm still your tutor, so do me a favor and translate that."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Quadriplegic. Quadri—four. Plegic—from the verb 'to strike.' A paralysis of all four limbs.

 

In the following days—weeks, really—Belle found comfort in knowledge, in learning anything and everything she possibly could. Belle catalogued and experienced traction, what it meant to be strapped to a bed, rotated, pulled, and told that this was helping her heal even though she couldn't feel it. There were acronyms and slang and a whole host of drugs administered; some of them for discomfort, a contradiction Belle was still working through. She learned that sometimes the simple things were the absolute worst. Like her hair. Her hair had been a disaster when she came in, soaked in sea salt and sand, still tied up in that messy bun. There'd been bigger things to worry about in those first few days, astronomical things compared to messy strands of hair. They left it, they left it... and by the time Belle asked Mulan to comb it there was a rat's nest atop her head. Huge chunks had tangled and solidified. Belle told her to just cut it all off.

 

Mulan did. Belle wanted nothing more than to raise her hand and draw it through her newly short hair.

 

Overall, Belle knew what she was doing. At least some part of her did. All that learning kept a buffer between her and the experience, almost as if it was happening to someone else. And there was just so much to learn. Doctors were astounded by Belle's upbeat attitude; the simple, open way that she asked questions about everything they did. Why, she was a model patient. Optimistic without being deluded, never once taking out her anger on those just trying to help. Was she even angry? Who knew. Belle certainly didn't show it.

 

At the base of her knowledge pyramid was learning that she was a complete quadriplegic, someone who had no movement in any of her limbs.

 

It was a hilarious irony. The last thing Belle felt was _complete_.

 

"May the one who blessed our ancestors... patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob...matriarchs Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah... bless and heal the one who is ill, Belle, daughter of Maurice..."

 

Belle opened her eyes. Turning she found Mulan in the nearby chair, still except for her words. She was as much a staple of this room as Belle was now. Perhaps she should be worried about bedsores.

 

"...May the Holy Blessed One overflow with compassion upon her... to restore her... to heal her... to strengthen her..."

 

"To enliven her," Belle interrupted, disgusted by how rough her voice still was. It certainly startled Mulan. With a yelp she kicked her legs out and nearly sent her laptop toppling to the floor. Only some quick reflexes caught it. Belle felt an agonizingly sharp pain at watching Mulan's ability flounder.

 

Don't think on it.

 

"The Mi Sheberakh," Belle said instead.

 

Mulan winced. "I'm mangling it, huh? Oh shit, or is it just super offensive for me to be reading this? I don't know, I'm sorry, I just wanted a good prayer and this was the first thing google gave me. Blame google! And you know I can't speak a word of Hebrew so English translation it is and—"

 

"Mulan. Thank you."

 

"Yeah." She ran a hand awkwardly over the back of her neck, standing. "Look at us. Super sentimental. Disgusting, isn't it?"

 

As if to prove her point Mulan leaned around all Belle's equipment and bent to give her a kiss. She might not be able to raise her hands anymore, but Belle's look was warning enough.

 

Mulan froze. "What?"

 

"Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I brushed my teeth?"

 

"Oh my god, shut up already," and the kiss Mulan gave her was no less enthusiastic than Belle remembered—even if a part of her felt that it should be.

 

This, then, was their new normal.

 

The only problem was that 'normal' kept changing on her. Three days in and Belle had roused Mulan and her dad with hopeful, vaguely panicky cries because she could suddenly feel something. She could! In fact, at times Belle thought she felt a lot of things: tingling at the bottom of her foot. Even (thank you, medication) what seemed like tendrils of pain shooting down the length of her back. She'd always thought that phantom pain was reserved for those with missing limbs, but each time she had Mulan press the call button the nurses had nothing but explanations for her, accompanied by sad, drawn smiles. We're sorry, dear. Sometimes the brain sends signals and when it hits the injury—that shattered part of Belle's spine—it doubles back with the message 'pain.' Sometimes the brain begins to rewire itself completely, directing feelings that should be experienced in one place to another place entirely, like your cheek. All of it amounted to the same: she wasn't magically getting better.

 

Normal became trying to acknowledge that this really was her life now.

 

Irritation was normal. The neck brace they kept on Belle in the beginning started feeling like a torture device, scratching at her sensitive skin and restricting what little movement she had left. Embarrassment was normal. Nothing like watching a nurse disappear down the end of her bed, knowing she was inserting a catheter and that soon all her doctors would be discussing her pee. Frustration was normal. Belle had taken for granted what it was like to do...anything, alone and unassisted. Please change the channel. Please grab a blanket. Please, I'd like some more water. No, a little more than that. Please help, it feels like there's something stuck in my eye.

 

And bless Mulan. She was right there, calmly telling Belle to look up as the tip of her index finger touched the white of her eye.

 

Belle thought about that now as Mulan pulled back from their kiss. Something else new: she wasn't sure she'd ever gotten to look up at Mulan before.

 

"You're doing so well," Mulan said. It wasn't the first time. "Hey, how about I read out something a little less depressing, yeah? We've got some time before your dad gets back. Uh..." she glanced around for her cell phone only to curse a second later.

 

Belle felt her lips twisting. "Battery dead?"

 

"How does this _happen_?"

 

Okay. So not everything had changed.

 

Still grumbling, Mulan kicked off her shoes and climbed carefully onto the bed, avoiding the numerous wires and braces that had been set up. It was by no means a comfortable fit—not that Belle could tell—but Mulan had never complained. She fluffed her edge of the pillow a little and squeezed in tight, hefting up _The Dragon's Apprentice_ so that Belle could see. They'd been reading it together for what felt like ages now. Belle didn't mind. This too was familiar.

 

"— _she gazed upon the dragon's scales and saw jewels that flickered in the fire's light. Its teeth looked like the most finely crafted swords. Where everyone else had found horror in its size, the Knight saw only dignity. As the magnificent creature reared back its head she felt her own sword slipping from her palm. Any second now fire would surely come and she would embrace it like a cleansing. She would stand there in acceptance because she would not harm this beast_..."

 

Belle knew there was a good chance they’d make it through this chapter before her dad came back. It wasn’t his fault. Not really. She'd thought at first that he was...devastated? Well yes, but ashamed was more accurate. That Dad couldn't look at her like this, trapped in bed, dependent on him and others in a way Belle hadn't even been as a child. She hadn't blamed him then, just let that knowledge sink into the growing pit within her chest, festering a little, and it wasn't until Mulan had styled her short hair, straightened the blankets, and told Belle to "Smile!" that a few things had slotted into place.

 

"Smile?" She'd echoed, already seeing the flash of Mulan's cellphone. Great. She'd probably blinked. "You want pictures of me like this?"

 

"I always want pictures of you," Mulan had said and for just a moment Belle couldn't breathe. "But this one is for the GoFundMe page. Aw. It's good too! Here, help me pick a filter."

 

Belle had just blinked, staring down at her own face. It was, she realized, the first time she'd seen herself like this.

 

Belle swallowed. "GoFundMe?"

 

It had been Mulan's turn to stare. "Didn't Snow tell you?"

 

Apparently she had. Funny thing about meds and trauma though—really easy to forget things. Brain fog was—pardon her French—an absolute bitch. They'd told her not to worry about anything other than recovering and Belle had taken that suggestion to heart. It was why it had taken her a disgustingly long time to realize how much this all cost.

 

It wasn't just the hospital room, the doctor visits, the supplies, the move to a spinal rehab clinic after the first two weeks. Belle wasn't getting a magical cure from that stupid, split-second decision and thus every aspect of her new life had to be accounted for—and paid for. The new electric wheelchair was a given, the kind with a mouthpiece and straw that Belle could use to wheel herself around. A sip-and-puff, they called it and Mulan had cracked up at the name, the exhaustion and stress bubbling right out of her. Belle needed a special sling and crane to get her out of bed in the mornings. Similar tools to assist with bathing. New outerwear that worked around her wheelchair. Special compression stockings to make sure she didn't develop blood clots. A whole wall was being taken out of their home So Belle could have more room to move around...

 

It went on and on and the more Belle catalogued the more daunting it became, like she'd eventually bring the whole hospital home with her. Dad wasn't around because there was just so much to _do_.

 

Mulan had been a little cagey about where they were getting their money. Insurance obviously helped... as did the Arendelle family.

 

Previously Belle had only an inkling of the kind of old money that Elsa came from, that picture growing clearer when she'd flat out told her dad to redirect bills their way (a conversation that was, for all their kindness, as awkward as it was moving). The biggest godsend came through Snow though, the tech nerd to Belle's old-school books. Another huge learning curve. It was just amazing what you could accomplish with an account and a bit of honest storytelling.

 

"You're joking," Belle had whispered, staring in absolute shock at the little webpage Mulan had shoved under her nose. It wasn't her own picture that had caught her attention—bright and smiling from last summer, shielding her eyes from the sun as the wind caught hold of her dress—but rather the absurdly large number that decorated the top, right-hand corner. That was more money than Dad made in two years. More than they'd ever had at one time. Lined up alongside the story (— _last month's tragic accident at the beach_ —) were 5, 8, 20 dollar donations from people Belle had never even heard of. Some of them contained messages that had Mulan nodding at Belle's awed expression.

 

"Snow set it up that first week," she'd whispered. "Everyone wants to help. You know that, right?"

 

Yes. That, at least, was undeniable. Over the course of her rehab Belle was visited continuously by each of her friends and though Snow's efforts had the most obvious impact, all of them demonstrated their love in one way or another.

 

Tiana hadn't been joking when she said she'd feed them. Mulan and Dad didn't ever need to worry about lunch or dinner again, as far as they were concerned.

 

Jasmine and Aurora wrote letters, despite the fact that they visited at least twice a week. Each was labeled with a specific command—open when hungry, when scared, when crying, right after a nap—and Mulan would sit them up on her little board where Belle could see them, a semblance of privacy as she only looked to swap one for another.

 

Merida and Moana became entertainers of a different sort. For many weeks the rehab clinic was Belle's home and they made sure to decorate it appropriately: fairy lights over the window, posters taped to the wall, a roll-out cot for Mulan and Dad... a small bookcase.

 

Ella gave her the mysteries and romances from Belle's Amazon wish-list, saying very seriously that she would sit here and turn every damn page for her. As Belle had laughed (one of her few) Pocahontas had presented those exact same books on tape. You know, for variety.

 

Rapunzel's visit was rather hard hitting. The day after Mulan cut Belle's hair she'd shown up with her own, ankle-length locks cut to a bob. Belle had been too moved to even reference it and Rapunzel hadn't brought it up either, just spoke long and earnestly about how much she loved Belle's new do.

 

And there was Ariel.

 

"Sucks, doesn't it?" She'd said, hoisting herself from her chair to Belle's bed, then dragging each leg up slowly as they shook. "I mean... I don't get this," Ariel gestured to Belle's whole body. "But I get _this_ ," another gesture to her legs. "It absolutely sucks and I'm not going to tell you different, but it doesn't define you. And yeah, yeah, everyone says that, right? Doesn’t mean it’s wrong though. You wanna know something else?”

 

“What?” Belle had whispered.

 

And Ariel leaned in close, the biggest shit-eating grin gracing her features. “You’re _stubborn as hell_.”

 

Oddly enough, it was one of the more comforting things that Belle had heard.

 

Now she remained curled beside Mulan, the two of them deep into the moment where the Knight stood trembling before the dragon, eyes finally opening in shock as she was graced with a gentle nudge instead of fire. Belle felt like that now: poised at some precipice, wondering if she would fall or if someone would catch her. She couldn’t feel the press of Mulan’s thigh and shoulder, but her hand was back in Belle’s hair—constant, grounding.

 

Belle wished she could press closer. She settled for turning her head and closing her eyes, breathing Mulan in.

 

The story went on.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Mulan was going to strangle her girlfriend.

 

Everyone in town knew the story—they’d been living with it for over a month now. They passed the gossip from hand to hand until everything was distilled to its most simplistic form. What a _tragedy_ that day at the beach was. How _horrible_ for that young girl. Her family must be _devastated_.

 

Her friends are such _saints_.

 

They looked at Mulan’s haggard appearance and admitted in hushed whispers that they weren’t sure they could do it. Take care of someone like that? Forever? Oh no, it was too much, so difficult… you’re so strong, Mulan.

 

She wanted to shriek that Belle was the strong one here. Mulan did tell Mrs. Rosenberg that she’d taken better care of her dog than she said she’d do for Belle and that shut her up quick. Mulan just let everyone else make their assumptions. She wasn’t going to strangle Belle because she needed more help now. Mulan was going to strangle her because she wouldn’t accept it.

 

“I know you don’t want the smoothie.”

 

“I do want the smoothie.”

 

“You don’t. You want the smoothie’s straw.”

 

Belle cocked an eyebrow, taking a long and noisy sip. Mulan muttered the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing. This was Belle’s new thing, insisting that she was 100% in love with any liquid-based food because it allowed her to feed herself. That was all well and good, but there was the matter of health and sanity. Chiefly Mulan’s sanity at the moment.

 

She pressed the glazed goodness against Belle’s lips. “Eat the damn donut.”

 

Belle glared. Mulan glared back. She was thoroughly prepared to stay there until the stupid donut turned to stone—and Belle knew it.

 

She took a massive bite, then grimaced.

 

“Ugh,” Belle moaned. “Chocolate and strawberry banana is not a good combination.”

 

“Really?” Mulan took a sip and a bite of her own. “… huh. That is indeed surprisingly atrocious.”

 

And everything was right between them.

 

That had become a standard pattern over the last few weeks: Belle getting frustrated, Mulan getting frustrated, one of them caving, the two of them reconciling through something small. In the last five hours they’d overcome numerous hurtles that didn’t even touch on food, that were, in some ways, seemingly worse now that they were out of the hospital. Mulan had wanted to tear out her hair at how long it took just to get Belle out of bed—roll her over, sling under one leg, roll the other way, sling under second leg, crisscross, lift, connect hooks, don’t fucking drop her oh my god—and then everything had to be done in reverse to get her into the chair. Despite already being a stupidly organized person, Belle had chaffed earlier at how her life was now run entirely by the clock. Here's when she woke up. This is when she took her meds. At 10:00 was the physiotherapist and Belle knew exactly what exercises they'd be doing to keep her muscles from atrophying. An hour after that was for bathroom duties, accompanied by endless red cheeks and apologies. When you were dependent on others for assistance you were largely restricted by their schedule. She'd admitted, a little bitterly, that she just wanted to do something random for once. Not another pre-planned day built around either Mulan or Maurice remaining at her side. Just something... different.

 

Lucky for Belle, Mulan had just such a surprise raring to go.

 

"Sure the workshop is what you want? " she asked, following Belle out the front door and down the newly-made path. It was slow going. Belle's body was still getting used to the change, finding it hard at times just to stay awake, let alone exerting itself by powering the wheelchair. She'd stop every few moments, collecting herself, working on the skill needed to direct the massive piece of technology with just her breath. This was precisely why Mulan wanted to check before she left. If Belle decided she wanted a change of scenery it would be a big decision. No more just get up and go.

 

Mulan shrugged. "It just gets kinda stuffy in there."

 

She was surprised to find that Belle was smiling. "I like it in there,” she said simply. "We've been in white sterile rooms for weeks, Mulan. Stuffy sounds fantastic."

 

Huh. It did indeed. The workshop wasn't Mulan's space—no one was stupid enough to put tools in her hands—but it was familiar, and therefore comforting. In fact, she could trace their relationship through space: the hallways of Elias High when they were just acquaintances, Belle's kitchen as they took on the role of student and tutor, the coffee shop for their first date, the workshop as Belle grew comfortable enough to share her father's inventions..

 

"Yeah," Mulan agreed.

 

Walking into the adjoining structure was like getting slapped by a dry sauna. Late July and the weather was hot, far worse than what they'd first dealt with that day at the beach. Mulan got a little worried again as Belle rolled into the darkened space. The comparative lack of light should have cooled things down, but there was so much packed in around them—tables filled with gadgets, half-built machines, pyramid piles of blueprints, what appeared to the untrained eye to just be massive collections of junk--that it felt a little claustrophobic. Mulan turned on the overhead light and everything got both literally and metaphorically a little brighter.

 

"Alright," she said. "Get huffing and puffing—"

 

"Mulan please."

 

"As if. You love my lame jokes. But you've got your damn smoothie. ipad with mouth stylus and voice controls—options, options. Emergency contact..." Mulan rested her hand briefly against Belle's cheek. "Your dad won't be back until tonight, but I shouldn't be gone any longer than an hour. Wait. Maybe two. Yeah. Let's say two. But I can come back faster if you need—"

 

"Is your phone charged?" Belle interrupted.

 

“Ha ha.”

 

"Look, I’ll be fine. Quit being a mother hen and just go already."

 

The words were upbeat, cheerful... and that was precisely what worried Mulan. The less ignorant neighbors talked about how well Belle was handling everything, which was absolutely true, but it seemed like she was handling things a little too well for Mulan's comfort. Where the hell was the anger? The tears even? Sure, Belle was an optimistic woman by nature, but anyone who went through what she had was going to be upset, furious even, so where did all that emotion go? Mulan knew she was having nightmares, but the closest she'd come to seeing Belle loose control was after Ariel had first visited, when there was a shine to her eyes and a strange catch in her voice. Otherwise... nothing.

 

Mulan bent to kiss Belle. She pressed as much of herself as she could into that kiss, everything she could think of that said, _It's okay. I'm here. Just let go because you need it._

 

When she pulled back Belle still had that serene smile on her face.

 

"Alright," Mulan whispered. "I'll be back soon."

 

This was the first. The first time Mulan had truly left Belle's side since entering the ocean. It didn't matter. She had every intention of keeping her promise and returning real soon.

 

***

 

_I'm floating._

_How strange, I think, staring upwards into the waves. I had expected to find stars and comets overhead, something grounding as I dip and turn. Instead there's nothing but blues to look at, light particles that swirl about, bits of foam. I try to reach for one and my arm swoops over it, limp. Like the logic in a dream, I realize too late that the movement wasn't mine. I'm just being carried by the current..._

_Where was I? I think next, trying to remember. When Mulan's face surfaces I try to reach for that too and the sting of failure is more pronounced this time. It was a game though, wasn't it? Something fun. I dived—_

_I dived and heard the crack! in my own neck._

_It's when I remember this that the burn for air becomes unbearable. I gasp, mouth wide and gaping, just as hands sneak around my waist._

_I don't feel it though. I'm numb now and I can see my body below me. Like a God I watch as Mulan plucks me from the waves and drags me to the surface—_

 

Belle opened her eyes, shaking.

 

It wasn't the first time she'd had that dream and she was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. Belle woke feeling disoriented, trying to roll over, hug herself, scrub her eyes, do something so she didn't feel like she was floating anymore. It took a few panicky breaths for her to recognize her father's workshop—the heavy air that must have lulled her to sleep. Belle swallowed compulsively, focusing on that sensation, and when she felt less like vomiting down the front of her chair she moved it just a little bit from side to side, reminding herself that this was solid ground.

 

She wasn't sure she could ever bring herself to go swimming again. She wasn't sure she could physically swim any more, even with help. Was that considered too dangerous? Belle didn't know. There was still so much she didn't know.

 

"Can I finish high school?" she asked the empty room. Her father's inventions didn't provide Belle with any answers, but her own voice helped to ground her a little more. It shook and dipped like waves. "Can I head back to the beach next summer? Or go to college? Oh god I want to go to college. I want to study library science and travel to France and learn to paint and go to clubs and sleep with—"

 

Belle suddenly cut herself off. She wanted to sleep with Mulan. They'd been steady for a while now and Belle couldn't, wouldn't imagine a life without her. She didn't know if Mulan was still a virgin, but it was a big step for her. Belle had been thinking about broaching the subject once their final year got underway. Because they were seniors, adults now, and Belle wanted to carry that memory with her in case they ended up going to separate schools. She wanted Mulan. Every inch of her. But now...

 

"Shit," Belle muttered.

 

If she'd been able to move her arms she would have buried her head in her hands because finally there were some tears underway. It wasn't crying as Belle remembered it. With no way to wipe her face the tears just kept coming in hot droves, until her breath was stuttering again and the collar of Belle's shirt had grown wet. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and Belle watched helpless as everything around her blurred. She spotted the piece her father had been working on two months ago—a portable washer designed for small apartment use—and Belle cried all the harder. It was so stupid but she couldn't work on it now and that killed her.

 

Belle cried for a long time. At some point she stopped, if only because her body had nothing left to give.

 

_You okay?_

 

...what?

 

A bubble had popped up on Belle's ipad, an unknown number that, she realized, could only be Mulan. It was the first text she'd received on this device and god all it once it hurt, this clichéd coincidence that Mulan would write those two, simple words in the _exact_ moment she needed them. It was wonderful too though... and more than appreciated. Belle shut her eyes for a moment and worked again to control her breathing.

 

_Belle?_

 

It was simpler than she'd imagined to input the voice commands needed to access her texting. After a few more deep breaths Belle said simply,

 

"I'm doing better."

 

It was true. Maybe it was more truth than Belle had given Mulan recently, but she found that with each new breath she was a little more sure about those words, if only because she'd decided, in that moment, on an answer.

 

The answer to every single one of her questions was _yes_.

 

She'd go to college. She'd go to France. Belle would study and succeed and do everything she had to find happiness. If that meant taking all her meds, so be it. Talking to her psychologist? She could do that. At least... maybe she could do that a little more than she had been recently. Belle could talk to Mulan too because Mulan would listen.

 

Another text message popped up with a whole string of smiley faces. Belle let out a wet laugh. There was a voice in her mind that was still crying and another that was just screaming, screaming, screaming with rage, but Belle tucked them both away for now. They could vent, but she had other things to focus on.

 

Suddenly, for the first time in weeks, Belle wanted to read.

 

Oh, she'd been read to and she'd certainly learned a lot, but Belle had steadfastly avoided researching her own condition. There was a community out there though, one that--like it or not--she was irrevocably a part of now. The very least she could do was repay the favor and listen to what they had to offer her.

 

"Computer, search 'disability' and 'community.'" Belle paused. "Also open iTunes."

 

She filled the workshop with upbeat Kpop and stretched her neck from side to side. Belle opened tab after tab until she had a whole library of information at her fingertips—well at her voice command, anyway.

 

If Belle listened hard she could still hear the waves. It still felt a little like she was floating... but for now those sensations were distance.

 

She dove headfirst into the written word.

 

***

 

"I am _disgusted_."

 

Mulan had been thinking about Belle's text for the last hour. I'm doing better. What did that mean? That she hadn't been doing well before? Well yeah, okay, a little obvious, but what? She'd hurried through her errand and hoofed it back to the workshop, half expecting to find Belle still staring off into the corner.

 

Instead Mulan found an overloaded iPad and one seriously pissed off girlfriend.

 

"What is this?" Belle's tone suggested that had she been able to, she would have been gesturing wildly and gripping her hair. She hadn't even acknowledged Mulan's arrival beyond a quick glance and a nod to come over, too engrossed in whatever movie she'd pulled up. Mulan briefly tapped the screen to get a look at the title.

 

"Me Before You," she murmured. "Huh. New romance film?"

 

Belle cast her a withering look that, oddly, had Mulan feeling very, very hopeful.

 

"Please go look up 'romance' for me."

 

"Hell no! School's out, Belle, I'm not researching a damn thing."

 

It only took Mulan a few minutes though to realize the issue. A quadriplegic came on screen which, okay, obvious interest there... but then the asshat started talking about some seriously horrific things that Mulan never, _ever_ wanted Belle to consider. She found herself squawking and exiting out of that trash before she'd even considered that maybe it was kind of rude.

 

Belle didn't seem to mind though.

 

"I paid six dollars to rent that," she said, sounding horrified at her own life decisions. Mulan collapsed into a nearby chair.

 

"I will literally pay you it back if you promise to _never_ watch that shit again."

 

"Deal."

 

With the movie gone Mulan had a better look at all the tabs Belle had up and she let out a low whistle. It was a freaking buffet of information, each website providing various views on disability—and it wasn't just restricted to Belle's specific condition. She hadn't looked solely to formal articles either, as was her tendency. Mulan saw a number of blogs in the mess, one of which...

 

"Spoonie?" she read. "Uh... okay? I know I've told you that you can be whatever you want, Belle, so I guess if you want to be a spoon..."

 

Mulan got another withering glare. "Just go grab the toolbox, smartass."

 

They weren't spoons, but the wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers Maurice had collected worked just as well for a demonstration. Belle walked Mulan through the theory, at least as she understood it thus far. They each began with a pile of tools representing their energy, which was cool at first, but for each normal action that Belle had to take throughout the day—getting out of bed, getting dressed, using the restroom, finding dinner—she had tools taken away, whereas Mulan's were left largely untouched. Belle admitted that this was a metaphor normally applied to chronic illnesses, but there was little doubt that she experienced exhaustion through everyday living in a way that Mulan simply did not. She stared at the bags under Belle's eyes—oh god, were those tear tracks?—and wondered if she'd slept while she was gone.

 

Mulan looked down at Belle's waning pile. Not many "spoons" left for going out or watching movies or hell, even taking time for her normal bedtime routine. She hefted a wrench in her hand and considered.

 

"Can I give you my spoons?" Mulan asked.

 

Belle ducked her head and smiled. "I guess... you kind of have to? My own energy aside, a lot of what I want to do can only be accomplished now with someone else's help. So... yes. And thanks."

 

Mulan happily shoved over her whole pile and Belle laughed. She stood and dropped a kiss against her cheek. "Wait here. I've got a surprise that I think will help even more."

 

Belle looked thoroughly puzzled as Mulan jogged out of the workshop. As far as she was aware, Mulan he just been out doing "errands" this afternoon, the sort of things she'd probably been neglecting since the accident. Belle certainly hadn't thought much of it, but now...

 

"Hey, Belle?"

 

She turned her chair to see out the doorway. Was Mulan... hiding? Yes. Yes that was definitely her head poking out from the side.

 

"Mulan. What are you doing?"

 

She seemed to be struggling with something. Belle caught a hissed, " _Quit it!_ " before she said louder, clearly meant for her: "Just so you know, this gift is totally returnable. Um... well, mostly returnable? He was kinda expensive to be frank..."

 

He?

 

At that exact moment Mulan lost her battle and the dopiest looking golden retriever that Belle had ever seen charged into the workshop, tail going a mile a minute as he sniffed enthusiastically at Belle's legs. She let out a gasp of pure joy, barely hearing Mulan's cries of alarm as she got pulled along by the leash, yelling something about how you're supposed to be trained, dammit, trained! Instead Belle focused in on the red vest adorning the golden's chest. The words SERVICE DOG were stamped in clear, white letters.

 

"I think he's just excited to finally meet you," Mulan said, poised somewhere between humor and exasperation. "Look, I get that... maybe this was out of line? I mean hell, maybe you don't want to take care of a dog right now or wanted to choose a service pooch for yourself, but I promise I was super careful about making sure he's mobility trained and they said goldens were best in terms of temperament and strength. He's great, I swear, he'll fetch you things, and turn off lights, and keep an eye out in your blind spots, and—"

 

"You're doing it again," Belle murmured. She ducked her head and the pup seemed to know what she wanted, crawling halfway up into her lap to lick at her face. Belle let out a full-bellied laugh that caused pure relief to wash over Mulan.

 

She swayed a little. "Doing? Again?"

 

"Worrying when you're wrong when you're just _amazing_."

 

"Oh yeah. Bad habit of mine, huh?"

 

Mulan pulled the dog off Belle, muttering that he shouldn't get all the action as she dove in for a kiss of her own. Belle shrieked that she was covered in dog slobber, don't, but Mulan hardly minded. It was a long minute where they were just, miraculously, happy.

 

"What's his name?" Belle asked. She let Mulan place her hand on the dog's head--who shut his eyes blissfully.

 

Mulan shuffled her feet. "Well I was gonna let you name him, but then..."

 

"Then?"

 

"I've sorta been calling him 'Dragon,'" Mulan muttered, sounding hopelessly embarrassed about it. She sighed as Dragon jumped up to get attention from her too. "God, you're already a pain. What do you say then? Feel like taming this beast?"

 

Belle smiled hugely. She looked up at Mulan and she was floating, but it was an entirely different feeling from before.

 

"Nah. I think I'd rather befriend him."

 

Funny, but it looked like they were going to be okay.

 


	6. Chapter 6

"—we're here at my favorite place on Earth, Elias High—"

 

"Oh god that's depressing on so many levels."

 

Snow smothered her laughter, hoping it wasn't picked up by the mic, and moved her camera a little closer to catch the look Belle threw at Ella. She wasn't much of an actress—anyone watching could tell that was staged—but it had become an expected part of Belle's blog. A Spoonful of Strength might be informative, but no one was deluding themselves that they weren't at least initially holding their viewers' attention through puns and other terrible forms of humor.

 

"It's the source of knowledge," Belle sniffed. She maneuvered her chair and deliberately bumped into Ella as she did. Ella laughed and sauntered out of the frame, waving.

 

Snow refocused so that Belle and Ariel were balanced on either side of Elias' front entrance. The two girls lined up their chairs on diagonals and adopted identical, annoyed expressions.

 

"As I was saying," Belle continued. "We're here at my favorite place, Elias High, two days from the start of a new school year—my senior year, actually (a number of girls out of the frame cheered; Pocahontas was clearly heard yelling, " _I've already got senioritis!_ ")—and ANYWAY, are we happy, Ariel?"

 

"Not as happy as we could be, Belle," she said, hiding a smile behind her hand.

 

"Really? And why is that?"

 

As one both girls looked to the set of eight or so stairs that lead into the front hallway.

 

"Ariel, pardon the personal question, but how do you normally get into the building?"

 

"I can walk," Ariel said matter-of-factly, "but only on my good days, and only for very short periods. I definitely can't carry my chair up that, so my parents usually help me when they drop me off, or sometimes our janitor does it. If I'm not up for stairs, which is usually the case in the mornings, someone will just carry me in as well. Eric said he'd help me with that this year. Thanks, Eric," and Ariel dropped a wink at the camera.

 

Belle rolled her eyes. "Flirting aside, there's absolutely _no_ reason why in 2017 anyone needs to go through all that just to get to school. I'm ashamed to say I didn't even pay attention to this situation until after my accident," Belle cast a quick, apologetic look Ariel's way, "but now that I have I'm pissed. I contacted our Dean last week regarding my status here and though I was assured that of course I can continue attending, no one has bothered thinking through the practical implications of that. I was informed, with no small amount of shame, that I should enter the school through the service dock that leads into the kitchen."

 

There was a great deal of booing from the peanut gallery off camera. Belle nodded seriously.

 

"Friends, changes need to be made and they need to be made fast. I am well aware that most of the accommodations I'm looking for won't be completed and available for my senior year, but the sooner they are finished the sooner other students can reap the benefits."

 

Ariel raised her hands in a cheer while Belle moved forward into the center of the frame. Snow shifted to a medium close-up on her face. "Loyal viewers, you all have been fantastic this last month and its been a pleasure getting to know all of you, to hear your stories and your struggles. I'm particularly indebted to those of you who continue to donate to my GoFundMe page. However, for the next two weeks, please direct any donations here." Aurora walked behind Belle with a large poster-board. On it was a scrawled URL. "All proceeds during this time will be given directly to Elias High to help them with these renovations. After that your generosity will continue to help with my supplies, bills, and yes, dog food for Dragon."

 

At his cue Dragon put his front paws up onto Belle's legs, panting for the camera. Jasmine snuck into the frame and put Rajah up around Belle's shoulders. There was much giggling as their 'mascots' took center stage. Nothing brought in donations quite like cute animals.

 

"Don't forget to subscribe and you'll find a link to my tumblr in the comment section below, as well as a number of other resources that are well worth your time. Until my next video, keep safe and I hope you have a wonderful start to the school year!"

 

Snow gave the thumbs up to let them know she'd finished recording and immediately jogged over to Belle to start talking edits. Mulan watched from her place on the low wall, peeking up over her book.

 

"You're reading?"

 

Mulan whacked Merida with the book. "You know I read!"

 

"Yeah, except it's normally magazines and shit."

 

She hopped up beside Mulan, sneaking a glance at the title. "Mechanical Engineering for Dummies." Merida stared. "Okay, um, _what_?"

 

Mulan chuckled, finally closing the book in favor of the conversation. "It's for Belle. I'm trying to learn some really, really basic tool stuff so I can help her out with her weird inventions when Maurice isn't around. Ever soldered anything before?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Me neither. Kinda terrified to try. But Belle has a whole freaking list of things she wants to make and at the top is, I kid you not, a modified charger that will let me juice my phone through her chair."

 

Merida bit hard at her lower lip. "It's dead right now isn't it?"

 

"As a doornail."

 

"You're a failure as a teenage girl."

 

They watched Belle directing their friends here and there, working together like a well-oiled machine the last few weeks. Snow had positively swooned at the opportunity to help Belle get a blog up and running so she could discuss disability issues and she never missed a chance for candid photos of the girls and their work. Tomorrow they'd be hosting a bake sale at their town's one, dinky museum to start off the school's renovation fund, an idea that had, of course, been Tina's. Mulan was iffy that anyone would be visiting a bunch of mediocre paintings in a one-story building on the last day of summer vacation, until Ella, Aurora, and Jasmine had hinted that they'd... well, either bribed or threatened half the town, depending on each girl's style. It should be a decent turnout. Meanwhile Rapunzel had started her on vlog focusing on beauty tips for those with low-energy or mobility issues, and Moana was spreading all their work back to her friends in Samoa. It was... a lot and nothing like what Mulan pictured the summer before her senior year would be like, but that didn't mean it wasn't wonderful.

 

"Not a girlfriend though."

 

She blinked, focusing back on Merida. "Huh?"

 

"You’re not a failure as a girlfriend," she clarified, grinning and bumping Mulan's shoulder. "You and Belle remain disgustingly adorable."

 

They did, didn't they?

 

It was something like fate, because in that exact moment Belle looked up and caught Mulan's eye. Maybe she read some of her thoughts because Belle blushed a pretty pink, calling Dragon up on her lap so she could bury her face in his fur. Mulan felt a similar heat rising up her neck and very stoically ignored Merida's cackle.

 

She was blessed, she knew that. Mulan had the greatest friends and the greatest girlfriend—who, she knew, might not have been here to see this moment. Just the idea made something cold slither in Mulan's gut, but she'd come to realize how important it was to acknowledge that. For all the horrible shit she had to deal with—for all the ways in which life just wasn't fair—Belle was, in fact, _alive_.

 

And Mulan wasn't going to waste a single second of that.

 

"Where you heading?" Merida asked. Her tone made it abundantly clear that she knew exactly where Mulan was going. The rude gesture she got in response just made her laugh harder.

 

Belle knew too. She lifted her chin to kiss Mulan deeply the moment she could, humming in the back of her throat. It was a small sound, barely audible over the girls' teasing, but Mulan was always highly attuned to everything Belle. She caught that little sound and it made her toes curl; made Mulan think of books and sunflowers, the smell of Belle's hair. It even brought her back to the books she'd been reading. Not just technical manuals, but memoirs on living as a quadriplegic, including having a healthy sex life. Mulan didn't know yet if Belle was willing, but if she was Mulan wanted all of her, just like she always had.

 

"I love you," she whispered. It was the first time Mulan had ever said the words aloud, but it was so natural and obvious a statement that it felt like she'd been saying it for years.

 

Belle closed her eyes and smiled brighter than the sun.

 

"I love you too, Mulan."

 

***

 

_A Spoonful of Strength - About Page_

 

Book nerd and disability activist, Belle French arrived in this world a week early and hasn't slowed down since. Nope, not even when the wheelchair came along. A diving accident two years ago landed her with a C-4 break, resulting in complete quadriplegic paralysis. This blog is dedicated to documenting her continued recovery, spoonie life, activist work, and the daily ways that you can keep being awesome.

 

Among the many organizations that have highlighted Belle's work (seen here) she was her high school's class valedictorian and was voted "Most Likely to Change the World" (alongside "Most Likely to Abandon Them All if Given the Chance to Live in Narnia," but that's neither here nor there). Belle currently attends Disney University where she's working towards a double major in Library Studies and English, with a focus on Disability and Queer theory. She hopes to continue on for a Master's and eventually a Ph.D., provided all that knowledge doesn't make her brain explode first.

 

Belle is in a happy, committed relationship with Fa Mulan, competitor in this year's World Judo Championship (check out her blog here!!). They live in a small apartment re-designed to accommodate Belle with their service dog Dragon. If you'd like to chat with either of them feel free to shoot off an email or comment in the box below. They'd love to hear from you!

 

Until then,

~<3

 


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